


bed of roses

by ctrl_plus_c



Series: Serial Killer AU (DRV3) [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Blood, Child Murder, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Murder, Nonbinary Shinguji Korekiyo, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrl_plus_c/pseuds/ctrl_plus_c
Summary: Shinguji is beautiful.~Alternatively,  the thoughts of Momota whilst watching his girlfriend/lover/something kill a family.
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Shinguji Korekiyo
Series: Serial Killer AU (DRV3) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988155
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	bed of roses

**Author's Note:**

> hi there
> 
> some may remember my serial killer au that i unposted a while back, well this is it! kinda
> 
> not really
> 
> I changed up a whole lot about it. Kiyo's a whole new character, so is Saihara. I didn't like how I had made them act and how I portrayed the illnesses I said they had, so I made them into something different entirely. 
> 
> Kiyo is 18 and Momota is 23 in this, the only minors now are Ouma and Himiko. Please keep that in mind.
> 
> Also note that this is a serial killer au and will 100% touch on darker topics that may make some uncomfortable (maybe not in this draft, but it might be the next) just please read tags and know what makes you uncomfortable.

Last time he checked the gruesome murder of a family of four wasn't on Momota's to-do list of things to do. That's why Shinguji was the one dirtying his hands further, getting a few more blood stains on his clothes. Meanwhile he simply watched the other do his work.

Shinguji was an artistic killer. That wasn't to say he was a dumb one; he hasn't been caught yet for a reason. But compared to Saihara's simple shoot-in-the-head method or Amami bashing in brains, Shinguji put work into what he did. He recreated scenes made up in his head, at times he used the bodies of his victims to recreate historical events (The Last Supper recreation with significantly less guests clung to the very recesses of his brain). He put more work into his craft than anyone else ever would.

It started with his signature weapon: a sickle. Momota could never understand why he chose such a tool, but Shinguji had his reasons. He could watch now as Shinguji straightened up the home, organizing and placing, whilst the sickle leaned against the wall, its blade splattered with blood. It had an ethereal sort of beauty to it; the shine of the blade covered in red.

If anything was beautiful it was Shinguji himself. His hair was long, flowing down to his mid-back and shining with the high-quality hair products he probably used. His bangs weren't as long, but that could be the headband he always wore holding them back, keeping the image of perfection true. He wore a typical boys school outfit; a green sweater over top a white dress shirt.

It all came together to create the image Shinguji perfected himself.

Even before Momota knew Shinguji was a guy, knew he was Korekiyo, Momota knew he was beautiful. He let himself think it more often when he thought Shinguji was his sister (to no fault of his own, that's who Shinguji said he was) and he was slowly getting used to thinking it now. The fact that Shinguji was Korekiyo Shinguji instead of Miyadera Shinguji didn't change him at all. It was Momota who changed, Momota who thought to treat him differently. But learning what his mistake was and maturing from it was just part of adulthood. He couldn't be spiteful over a choice Shinguji made. Shinguji made the choice to trust him and Momota didn't want to lose that trust.

He watched Shinguji as he set up the father of the family at the dinner table, balancing his broken body on the chair and making sure he wouldn't fall over before turning to smile at Momota. He could rightfully assume Shinguji had finally finished setting up as Shinguji returned to his side, remembering to grab his sickle on the way. 

"Ready?" Momota asked as Shinguji stood in front of him, even more enchanting from up close. Shinguji's height still threw Momota off, as all he could imagine was Shinguji with the body type of say, Gokuhara. He'd be terrifying. The thought made him chuckle a bit.

"I suppose. What's so funny?" Momota waved off his question. Shinguji didn't have to know about that.

It was strange. They'd first met two years prior, when Momota had barely blossomed into adulthood and Shinguji was still two years away from being 18. When Shinguji was still a child, a child wielding a sickle coated with blood, human blood, and all Momota could see in that was something horrible. Who had the nerve to actually drive a child to murder? Shinguji wasn't a child anymore, and he certainly never acted like one, but the fact he'd been a killer by the age of 16 never sat right with Momota.

He'd really started out thinking that Shinguji wasn't cut out for this life. He was too kind, too accepting, too trusting of others that have sinned as much as he has. It turned out that Shinguji was more cut out for this than Momota was. Shinguji lived his entire life alone besides for his family, most of which were now deceased. Shinguji was used to a life of loneliness and independence. 

On the other hand, Momota's life was quite the opposite. He'd always had friends in school, and his relationship with his grandparents was never anything more than parent and child. It was their deaths that drove Momota to murder, to find the one who killed his parents and avenge them. But that was nothing compared to what Shinguji went through, and he knew he would never understand because he didn't have such a deep bond to his family, or anyone at all. Sure he cared, but he never really got close to anyone, even his previous lovers.

If anyone wasn't cut out for this, it was him. But Shinguji didn't care, Shinguji never cared. Shinguji knew he wouldn't say anything, knew that Momota couldn't go back to his old life even if he wanted to. Maybe that was Shinguji's appeal, his unwavering loyalty to someone he cared about. Maybe it was farfetched to think that Shinguji cared about him or anyone. Maybe he simply didn't care.

As they made their way out of the house together, hand-in-hand, Momota felt relieved. The cool night breeze was refreshing after being crammed in a corpse-ridden house. And as they ventured back to Hoshi's apartment, he could only think about Shinguji and how endlessly beautiful his lies were.

**Author's Note:**

> so when do i start the series of fics named after msi songs (the non-offensive titles lol)


End file.
